


promise me there will be a tomorrow

by fonulyn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Amputee, Depressive Thoughts, Disability, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Piers Nivans Lives, Post RE6, Recovery, Self-Worth Issues, injuries, it's soft I promise, self-deprecating thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21732778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonulyn/pseuds/fonulyn
Summary: Piers wanted to live. He was glad to be alive. But it was sometimes hard to keep that at the forefront of his mind. Being alone was nearly suffocating at times, and having someone else there alleviated the pressure at least a little.Chris came to see him whenever he could but Chris looked at him with so much raw guilt in his eyes that Piers had to look away, unable to face him properly. Piers’ parents had spent the first few weeks by his bedside, but they were so devastated, so broken, that it was almost a relief when they’d had to leave.Leon, though. Leon didn’t expect anything from Piers. He didn’t look at him like he was broken.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Piers Nivans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	promise me there will be a tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> obviously this just like... scratches the surface of all the things Piers has to go through with his rehabilitation and all, I hope it doesn't come off too flippant about his ordeal. I tried to be respectful and realistic, and did research on it, but since the fic is so tiny it obviously can't address much of the issues, but is overall kind of vague about any practical things. 
> 
> oh and just a heads up, Piers refers to himself with the word “cripple” a couple of times, if that is something that bothers you.
> 
> also, imagine they managed to create a working cure for the virus, and with that managed to reverse some of the worst that happened to him. that’s what i did 8) 
> 
> so yeah. with that said, i hope it's enjoyable enough! huge thanks to Aide and to Tatsu for telling me it doesn't suck ❤

Leon didn’t really care for hospitals. Sure, he wasn’t stupid and he got treatment when he needed it, but if he could help it he was in and out as fast as possible and never stayed for longer than strictly necessary. He hated tests and having his blood drawn, got restless and antsy whenever he was stuck in the sterile environment even for shorter periods of time. And even though technically the BSAA research laboratory wasn’t a hospital, they did have a treatment wing with enough equipment to rival the best hospitals around.

“Thanks for coming in,” Chris said, for probably the fourth time thus far, as they walked side by side along the corridor. He knew his friend had his issues with places like this, and he’d been careful about even suggesting this in the first place. “I really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Leon replied distantly, his mind elsewhere. He was trying to focus on anything but what was about to happen, as although he’d agreed on giving blood and tissue samples for the research project to use, he didn’t still need to _like_ the thought of it. He’d get through it, he knew it was for the greater good, for helping cure infections and for helping to understand the different types of viruses and parasites better. 

They were walking past a room that had its door ajar, and something caught Leon’s attention enough to make him slow down to a halt. There was a person with half of their head wrapped in bandages, probably asleep judging by how still they were, and there was something so hauntingly familiar about him that Leon couldn’t let it go. “Hey, Chris? Who’s that?” He nodded vaguely towards the figure settled in the middle of the bright white bed.

Immediately there was a cloud over Chris’ face, his expression darkening into something almost thunderous. “Piers Nivans.” His voice was rough like gravel. “He’s… alive. We’re working on the rest. It’s one reason I asked you here, too. We’ve got the new advanced research team that could use new samples to work on.”

Leon nodded slowly at the explanation. Not that he needed one, the name alone was enough for him to get a good idea of what was going on, and he was shocked he hadn’t recognized Nivans to begin with. He’d met the man more than once, and he knew what had happened, both from the glimpses the official reports had shared and from the devastated half-drunken tirade Chris had gone on. And he had a strong suspicion that as much as the research was claimed to be to cure Nivans, the man was as much a test subject as a patient. 

For a second longer, Leon lingered in the doorway, watching the young man lying in bed unmoving. He looked so small, so desperately alone, that it clawed at the insides of Leon’s chest. Only when Chris nudged him with his shoulder he realized he was staring, and quickly followed along. Still, for the rest of the day, he couldn’t get over the image, the haunting loneliness of it. For some reason it stuck with him, to the point that he _needed_ to do something about it. If only he’d figure out what.

*

The bright lights of the room were almost too much, but Piers didn’t feel like calling anyone in to adjust them for him. He was helpless enough, had to rely on being helped with so many things, that he refused to ask for something as mundane and irrelevant as just dimming the lights, goddamnit. He’d deal. Stubbornly he squeezed his eyes shut, tight enough that the bright lights turned orange and green, dancing in circles across his closed eyelids.

Everything hurt, but the worst part was the phantom pain where his right arm used to be. It was like his joints were aching, like his fingers were throbbing with pain, and yet there was nothing there to even hurt. It frustrated him to the point of tears more often than not, and he had cried more during the past weeks than in his entire life up until this. 

Piers wanted to live. He was glad to be alive. But at moments like this it was sometimes hard to keep that at the forefront of his mind. If only he could fast forward to the moment when he’d get to go home, at least, be out of this wretched room and able to try find some new normal into his life. He knew it was still ways ahead of him, knew he wasn’t going to leave this place anytime soon, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

Suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps at the door, something Piers wouldn’t have even noticed had he not been so still. Carefully he opened his eyes, turning them both towards the door even if the right one barely saw anything. Surprised didn’t even begin to cover what he felt as he recognized who it was. Out of all the people in the world, he hadn’t expected to find Agent Kennedy standing at his door, looking at him like he was trying to make up his mind about something. 

The silence stretched on for a while, but not long enough to have the chance to become uncomfortable. “Hey.” Leon smiled faintly, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. “Want some company?” He seemed a little awkward, his usual confident aura gone, and he looked almost hesitant. “I’ve got nowhere to be for the next couple of hours.”

Piers only realized a second too late that he was staring, his lips parted in shock, as this was somehow so far from the realm of what he’d considered possible. “Sure,” he managed to choke out somehow. “But wha– Don’t you have better places to be?” Surely someone like Leon had better things to do than keep company to a cripple like Piers.

Leon only shrugged a little, already moving into the room. “None I can think of.” Casually he took a seat on the armchair next to the bed, making himself comfortable. He was obviously settling in, intent on staying for a while.

Somehow in his surprise Piers had forgotten to focus on the ever present aches. So he settled back against his pillows, as comfortably as he was able, and decided this was at least way better than lying there alone staring at the ceiling. Even if it’d only be for a moment, company was company, and he could appreciate the distraction.

*

For some reason Piers simply couldn’t fathom the visits became a regular thing. Leon appeared back the following day, staying for even longer this time, and from then on there never were many days between visits. For all that they’d been barely acquaintances, the time they spent together soon became the highlight of Piers’ entire _existence_. For at least a couple of hours he could talk about something else than his health, his physical therapy, his _actual_ therapy, the tests and the cures and whatever his life revolved around right now.

Being alone was nearly suffocating at times, and having someone else there alleviated the pressure at least a little. Besides, Leon quickly became Piers’ favorite visitor. Chris came to see him whenever he could but Chris looked at him with so much raw guilt in his eyes that Piers had to look away, unable to face him properly. Piers’ parents had spent the first few weeks by his bedside, but they were so devastated, so broken, that it was almost a relief when they’d had to leave.

Leon, though. Leon didn’t expect anything from Piers. He didn’t look at him like he was fucking _broken_. Not even with the wide scar stretching over his face, or the blankness of his barely functional eye. If Piers was too tired or on too much pain medication to speak, Leon would take care of most of it, working with whatever little Piers managed to respond, without making him feel awkward about it. Sometimes they just watched whatever dumb show happened to be on, even though the TV in the room was tiny and the flickering lights always made Piers’ eyes hurt after a while. 

It was one of those days when Leon just settled into the armchair, kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the edge of the bed. The TV was on, but there was some game show that neither of them was really interested in. Leon had brought in some sweets, and Piers had no idea if he’d gotten them cleared with the staff or if he’d just smuggled them in. Whatever it was, he was kind of enjoying the extra sugar. 

Piers couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all so bizarre, though. Out of all the people he knew, Leon wasn’t even in the top five of people he’d expected would visit him while he was stuck on bed rest. Much less spend actual time with him. He hadn’t wanted to ask about it, either, because what if that meant that Leon would stop coming. That wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. 

Still, curiosity eventually got the best of him, and after he’d been staring for what probably was an impolite amount of time, he blurted out the question. “What are you really doing here?” He almost winced at how it sounded, as he hadn’t really wanted to make it sound like the company wasn’t appreciated. 

Thankfully Leon only shrugged a little. “They’ve got some fancy new equipment and they can run tests they couldn’t before. But they need a lot of blood for it, too much for it all to be done in one go,” he flashed a grin, “so I’m here to donate.”

That didn’t provide as many answers as Leon apparently thought it did. Piers frowned. “You? But what do you–”

“I got infected with the plaga,” Leon cut in, interrupting gently. The words immediately made Piers snap his mouth shut, and he just stared at Leon until he went on. Leon was looking at his hands, twisting his fingers, and although he was calm and collected there was a certain edge to his voice that made something twist uncomfortably in Piers’ chest. “Back in 2004, in Spain. It never got the chance to hatch, so I got off easy. But it apparently left something behind.”

“Oh.” Piers didn’t know what else to say. It made sense to have Leon be a test subject for the project, then, if he’d had the parasite in his system. It was all news to him, though, nothing of that had ever been included in any of the paperwork Piers had ever seen about the Las Plagas. 

Maybe it also explained why Leon was here. Even if he hadn’t lost an arm and half of his eyesight to the parasite, he knew on some level how it was to be infected, how it was to be affected by the BOWs they kept fighting against. 

Leon didn’t offer any more information, and Piers didn’t want to pry. 

They didn’t talk about it any further.

*

“C’mon, lean forward,” Leon said, underlining the words by pressing against Piers’ back. His palm was splayed against the shoulder blade on the injured side, and somehow the gentle pressure of it seemed to make the accumulated tension in the muscles fade. Obediently Piers leaned in, twisting his torso to the side like the physical therapist had instructed.

How Leon had ended up being the one to help him do his stretches more often than not, Piers had no idea. Yet he wasn’t going to complain, as turned out Leon was surprisingly patient and calm with him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, really, but not being patiently guided through the list of stretches and exercises like this. 

Leon’s hands were warm on him, and for the first time since the incident, Piers allowed himself to have something nice. So he focused on how good that felt, reveled in the way he was being practically held. Only that made him realize how touch-starved he’d been. Not solely after getting injured, but for long now. If something like this made him soak up all the closeness he could, he was worse off than he’d even thought. Even though the staff checked up on him several times a day, he spent the majority of his time alone, marinating in his own thoughts. 

He just wanted to go home.

“I feel so stupid,” Piers mumbled, eyes closed, voice barely audible. Immediately he felt the touch disappear, as Leon pulled his hands away and even took an instinctive step backwards. A part of Piers wanted to beg him to come back closer, but he bit his tongue on that. Instead he hunched in on himself, not brave enough to even open his eyes. “I’m stuck here because I’m more valuable as a test subject than a person.”

It was like there was a huge clawed hand squeezed around his lungs, choking life out of him, but he forced himself to go on. “If I hadn’t infected myself I’d already be home. I’d be …figuring shit out. Getting used to using a prosthetic arm or something, I don’t know. But I was an idiot and now I’m gonna be stuck here forever. It was such a shit move.”

There was a soft touch to his shoulder, a warm palm carefully sliding up his neck until he felt his chin being tilted up. “Hey, look at me.” Leon spoke softly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to spook Piers and put in effort to be as calm as possible. Maybe that was why Piers finally forced his eyes open, meeting Leon’s. It wasn’t pity he saw, or condescension, and instantly he began to relax.

Leon attempted a smile, even if it was a faint one. “If you hadn’t infected yourself you’d probably be dead. Chris would be dead. Who knows how many other lives would’ve been lost.” He paused for effect, making sure the words sunk in properly. “You did the best you could in a shitty situation. Okay?”

For the longest moment Piers kept staring at Leon, eyes wide and barely breathing. Finally he swallowed hard, licked his dry lips and forced out a barely audible “Okay.” 

Somehow it was easier to breathe, the panic receding, and after a few long moments Piers even managed something that almost qualified as a smile. He wasn’t naïve enough to think all of his problems were magically fixed by something this simple, but it helped. It gave him something to hold on to, something tangible to repeat to himself to keep his calm. 

Leon gave his shoulder a squeeze and a gentle shove, urging him back to bed. “You’ve been up long enough, take a break.” And as if he thought he needed to convince Piers further he nodded towards the TV. “Wanna try watching the movie again? Maybe this time you won’t fall asleep twenty minutes in.”

“Oh screw you,” Piers huffed out, making Leon laugh. A burst of contentment exploded in Piers’ chest, a smile stretching his lips, as if he’d accomplished something great. And that’s when it hit him. He knew what the tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach meant, what the joyous skip of his heart stood for. 

So he had developed a helpless, stupid crush on none other than Leon S. Kennedy. How fucking amazing.

*

The more Leon visited, the more Piers looked forward to it. They shared a similar sense of humor, easily found common ground on almost everything, and it was unlike anything Piers had ever experienced in his life. Even the knowledge of how unrequited his feelings were didn’t bring him down. Contrarily, somehow he found the energy to work even harder on his rehabilitation, determined that when he’d finally be released from here he’d carve out a life for himself, no matter what.

That didn’t mean there weren’t bad days. Days when nothing got Piers out of bed, when he was too tired from the night terrors, too haunted by the nightmares to motivate himself to anything. Days when the darkness in him consumed every fiber, every molecule, leaving him helpless. Days when he felt like giving up. 

Piers had barely slept during the night, and it made everything worse. The bright overhead lights hurt his eyes and he switched them off, settling for only the yellow glow of the small bedside lamp. When he closed his left eye, he could barely see the faint flicker, and it felt like he could feel it dimming with every passing second. 

Something caught his attention, startling him, and he blinked both eyes open. Leon was standing at the doorway, looking at him with a concerned frown. Slowly he approached, stopping only when he was right at the bedside. Usually he took a seat in the armchair, but this time he sat gingerly at the edge of the bed, obviously sensing that something was wrong. “What is it?”

At first Piers only shrugged. He didn’t hesitate for long, though, before he spoke up. “I’m losing vision in my right eye,” he confessed. A shudder ran through him, as somehow saying it out loud solidified it, made it real. There was no escaping it now. “It’s been declining all the time and …it’s only a matter of time before it goes blind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Piers said, although it wasn’t. It sure as hell wasn’t. He felt like all of his hopes and dreams had been flushed down the drain. He hadn’t only lost an eye and an arm, but his career, his independence, and for the moment also his freedom. And it was too much. Yet he couldn’t focus on all of that lest it crush him, so he tried to block everything else from his mind. He laughed, although it sounded odd even to his own ears. “I mean. Lights hurt it anyway, at least wearing an eye patch helps with that.”

Slowly Leon nodded, choosing not to comment on that. He looked like he understood, if not everything then at least some fraction of what Piers was going through. He at least knew more than well that this wasn’t only about the eye, that the desperation ran bone deep. With a slight nod, Leon drew Piers’ attention to the right shoulder, where an arm was supposed to be joined to it. “Does the… hurt too?”

“Not really. Not anymore,” Piers replied honestly. Talking about the physical injuries was at least easier than the emotional ones. He rolled his shoulders a little, tilting his head to the side to stretch the too tight muscles. “Sometimes there are phantom pains. But yeah.” He huffed out a breath, trying to calm himself with a long inhalation of air. “I could really do without the nightmares though.”

“I used to have this recurring nightmare, after Spain,” Leon spoke suddenly. He hadn’t mentioned Spain after their initial conversation about it, but it obviously weighed on him. It was almost as if there was a dark cloud over his face, his eyes tired and distant. “I kept dreaming that their plan worked, and I couldn’t get the plaga out in time. I was sent back home, and had to watch, helpless, while I killed everyone I’ve ever cared about with my own hands.” 

Leon was staring at his own hands, flexing his fingers as if he was remembering the feeling, as if he was imagining how it had been like. “I know I got off easy. And that it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through.” He looked up, straight at the other man. “I’ve spent my life in this war and it never seems to end. And I’m tired of seeing good soldiers, good people, suffer because of it. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not your fault.” Piers didn’t know what else to say. He was well aware that although Leon looked fine on the outside, he hadn’t managed to escape the war on BOWs unscathed. His scars just were so deep they were hidden from the world. As much as Leon said he’d gotten away easy, that was far from the whole truth. 

“Maybe,” Leon admitted with a quirk of his lips. There was so much affection in his eyes when he looked at Piers that it was nearly overwhelming, and as casual as he tried to sound some of it inevitably bled to his voice. “You’ll be fine. You’re too stubborn to give up.”

Their gazes met, and that was like the stuff cheesy romantic movies were made of. Piers’ gaze flitted down to where Leon instinctively wet his lips, and that’s when he knew they were both thinking about the same thing. Still he didn’t move, stayed frozen on the spot as Leon leaned in, inch by inch, until their lips brushed. 

The kiss was hesitant, careful, as if neither of them dared to move too fast to break the moment. Piers could feel his heart hammering in his throat, his mind going a million miles an hour as he was trying to process everything, trying to catch up. He barely managed to return the kiss, too shocked by it to even properly revel in it. 

“I– s-sorry,” Leon stammered out as he pulled back abruptly. He practically flew on his feet, eyes wide and face pale. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” The words had barely left his mouth before he’d already gone, not even closing the door behind himself.

*

The following day Piers kept on staring at the bright red numbers on the digital clock, waiting anxiously for Leon to appear. The day came and went, with no sign of him, and Piers kept telling himself that it was fine, he didn’t visit every day anyway, this was normal and he’d just need to be patient. He’d just need to be patient. But no amount of convincing managed to calm him down after four days passed by and there was still no sign of Leon.

Piers didn’t know whether he was more angry or hurt, or maybe just immensely frustrated that he had no contact information and couldn’t even call and ask what was going on. He’d never thought to ask for Leon’s phone number from the man himself, and he wasn’t going to go around asking the staff here in hopes someone might know. That would just be too embarrassing. 

Nothing salvaged his mood, not even doctor Barlow appearing with the brand new bionic arm that was going to be fitted for him. It was clear progress, and rationally Piers knew he should be ecstatic about it, but somehow he found it hard to muster up any excitement. “This is your last fitting before we will start rehearsing how to use this,” Barlow said, ignoring his patient’s clearly rotten mood. 

“ _Finally_ ,” Piers huffed, not caring how impolite it sounded. It had taken _so long_ for them to get to this point that he felt like he’d lived half of his life in here. “I’ve done the research,” he went on, unable to mask the edge of anger in his voice. “I should be home by now! Why the hell is this taking so long?”

“You’ve done your research online, I believe?” doctor Barlow asked calmly. As if the outburst affected him in absolutely no way. “The thing is, what applies to amputees in general doesn’t exactly cover all the nuances of your situation, now does it? How many of those examples you saw were people who’d been infected?” 

The doctor looked at Piers, an eyebrow hitched up questioningly, and Piers just avoided his gaze. 

“I thought so.” The doctor twisted something around the elbow joint of the arm, pressing the end of it against what was left at Piers’ shoulder. “Now listen, we’ll be slowly accommodating you to the prosthesis. Meanwhile, I will try to rush the rest of the tests. Maybe once you’ve accomplished enough mobility with the new arm, you’ll be able to go home.”

It was at least something, an offering of peace, and Piers nodded tersely. “Thanks.”

Once he’d get to go home everything would be better, he was certain of it.

*

It wasn’t often that Chris visited him, and Piers understood that. The captain was busy, he had things to do even when he wasn’t being sent to the far corners of the world to fight against terrorist threats. Besides, the sheer amount of guilt that was always radiating from Chris made the visits more than a little awkward, and Piers didn’t know how he could make Chris understand that he didn’t blame him for anything. Yeah things sucked. But it wasn’t either of their fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Piers’, he’d made his own dumb decisions.

It was a topic they avoided. The conversation was always stilted. Chris told Piers how their mutual acquaintances were doing, and maybe talked about where he was headed next, sometimes mentioned Claire. But it was a far cry from the kind of conversations Piers had gotten used to with Leon. If someone had told him that beforehand, Piers wouldn’t have believed them, but here they were and there was no denying it. 

For the entire time Chris stood in the room awkwardly, Piers resisted the temptation to ask him about Leon. He knew they were friends, apparently really good friends too, but he also didn’t want to make things even weirder. His self control snapped like a cord when Chris was just about to leave, though, and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “Could I just– I mean…” 

Chris turned to look at him expectantly and Piers hesitated, searching for words, trying to come up with a way to ask what he wanted to know that wasn’t _so hey I might be a little bit in love with your friend and I was wondering what’s up with him_. Eventually he just forced something out. “Agent Kennedy said he’s here for some kind of research project? He used to drop by and say hi sometimes. Is the… project over?”

“Leon?” Chris frowned, confused. He seemed to be considering it, searched his brain for an answer, and finally shrugged a little. “I didn’t realize he’s been coming here.”

“He said the lab needed blood samples from him?” Piers tried to explain.

That now made something dawn on Chris, and he finally seemed to understand what Piers was talking about. “They did. But that was like …months ago.” 

“Oh.” Piers answered shortly. His head was spinning, his mind racing as he realized that Leon had been coming over for fucking _weeks_ just to see him. Yet it felt sort of preposterous to think he’d only come for Piers. Surely there had to be something else, some… Then again Piers didn’t _want_ there to be any other explanation. But there was no way he’d say any of that to Chris. “I just– Nevermind.”

“What is it?” Chris looked at him more than a little suspiciously. 

“It’s nothing,” Piers said quickly and shook his head. “I just. Had something I wanted to ask him. But it’s nothing.” He maintained eye contact in hopes he seemed convincing enough, breathing a sigh of relief only when Chris finally bid his farewell and left.

*

The next two days Piers honest to god moped. Who was he to expect anything good from his life? It had been doomed to all hell as soon as his arm had been chopped off. That one split second had defined the rest of his life and he was going to die alone and miserable. How could someone like Leon ever even entertain the thought of spending his time with Piers, was so beyond his comprehension.

Yet even now, he found solace in thinking back to those moments. A part of him wanted to be angry, maybe hurt, but a far bigger part kept repeating their conversations over and over, and it was like a blanket of comfort over him. When he felt like beating himself up for his decisions again, he closed his eyes and imagined a warm palm against his jaw, a soft voice resonating to his very bones.

_You did the best you could in a shitty situation._

_You did the best you could._

_The best you could._

Piers kept repeating the words in his mind over and over until he could feel sleep finally taking over, until the restlessness and the heaviness in his chest finally eased up and left him at peace. 

_You’ll be fine._

He wanted to believe that. And he figured that if he kept telling himself enough times, eventually he would.

*

Slowly Piers worked himself out of the funk he’d fallen into. Deliberately he focused on the good things. He had the new arm he was quickly getting the hang of even though he was only allowed to wear it for short periods of time in the beginning. He was hoping he could get home sometime soon. Maybe he could track Leon down, too, and at least apologize for whatever it was he’d done to drive him away.

Before any of that could happen, Leon came to him. Out of the blue, just like he used to do up until the day they’d kissed, Leon suddenly stood right there in the doorframe, watching Piers intently. Piers noticed him and waved his new arm a little, satisfied as he managed to make the fingers move the way he’d attempted to. 

Leon smiled at him, almost proud. Then he turned a little more serious, almost hesitant, as he spoke up finally. “Chris told me you were asking for me?” He almost seemed like he was expecting to be yelled at, angled himself as if he was gearing up to run away if he’d need to. 

That wasn’t how Piers wanted this to go. If he couldn’t have anything else, he wanted to at least preserve the new friendship they’d built up. He could be reasonable. And it wasn’t like a friendship was inherently anything less. He just wanted to keep Leon in his life one way or another. “It’s okay,” he said, attempting an as honest of a smile as he possibly could. “I get it.”

“Get what?” Leon asked, frowning. 

“Why you stopped coming. I know I came on too strong, and I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I… I don’t expect anything from you, okay? It’s alright.” Piers knew he was babbling a little, but he… didn’t know what to say and tried to compensate that by saying whatever came into his mind. “I’m not exactly a great catch anyway. Just a one-armed half-blind cripple, who–”

“Wait,” Leon interrupted his tirade, finally stepping into the room properly, no longer poised to leave any given second. “Is that what you think happened?”

“What else?” Piers huffed, trying to laugh, even though it turned out awkward and less of a genuine thing than he had hoped it’d be. “And really, it’s fine. Just forget it ever happened, okay? It doesn’t need to make things weird for us.”

Leon stepped closer still, until he was standing right in front of the younger man. There was only a palm’s width between their chests, and the closeness made Piers’ heart speed up. Without even noticing it he squeezed his new hand into a fist, something he would’ve been immensely pleased about had he realized. 

“I left because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” Leon started, voice pitched low. It made the moment feel even more private, although they’d been alone to begin with. “I didn’t think you wanted it, and I was too much of a coward to stay and find out.” There was a small grin making its way up to Leon’s face, and he brought his fingers up to brush them over Piers’ cheek. “Let’s face it, I’m not the easiest person in the world to be around.”

“You kind of are, though,” Piers argued faintly. He was smiling, too, and in a fit of bravery he shifted until their noses were brushing. “I don’t know why, or how, but you’re the easiest person for me to be around.”

This time when Leon kissed Piers there was no hesitation.

*

“Ready to go?” Leon asked, shouldering the bag with whatever meager belongings Piers had packed along. He’d gotten the clearance to go home two days before, after a long and tedious wait, but now the day had finally come.

Piers turned to take one last look at the room he’d spent almost all of his time in for the past months. He would be lying if he said he was going to miss the place, but that didn’t mean there weren’t some good memories attached to it, too. Still, he was more than ready. 

He turned around, grinning easily. “Whenever you are.”

Together they walked away, shoulder to shoulder.


End file.
